


Violent Delights

by wocket



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dylric, Established Relationship, Gunplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: Dylan asks Eric about taking their relationship to the next level.





	Violent Delights

**Author's Note:**

> "As wolves love lambs, so lovers love their loves."

It starts by accident.

Eric begins to notice that Dylan likes it when he grabs him just a bit harder, or throws him around a little while they’re making out. His pupils start to dilate and he goes soft and quiet and Eric realizes _he’s fucking enjoying it_. Neither one knows what it means at first, and neither one mentions it either, until one rainy afternoon at Dylan’s house.

“There’s some shit I want to try,” Dylan tells Eric, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Oh yeah?” He looks interested, sitting up and staring at Dylan.

“Yeah,” Dylan confirms.

“Like what?” Eric asks, matter-of-fact.

“Like…” Dylan goes silent again. “I want… I want you to tie me up,” Dylan finally spits out.

Eric’s eyes narrow and he smirks. Images of whips and chains come to mind. “Really?” Eric asks, eyes gleaming.

Dylan nods. 

“Tie you up how?”

“However you want,” Dylan breathes. 

Eric tries not to lose it at that. His mind starts to consider the possibilities. Dylan dressed up in rope and knots, or maybe his wrists bound with duct tape behind his back. All of it seemed good.

“Okay,” he agrees, inspired. “What else?”

Dylan blushes.

“Tell me,” Eric commands.

“You could slap me around a little,” Dylan suggests, heart racing. “And call me names.”

Eric nods, starting to picture different scenarios. Eyes trained on Dylan, he reaches forward and slaps him across the mouth.

“Ow! Fuck!” Dylan hisses, reaching up to touch his lip. “I didn’t mean right now.”

“Sorry,” Eric apologizes, leaning forward. Was Dylan bleeding? Sure enough, Dylan’s hand came away red with blood.

Eric leans forward and presses his mouth to Dylan’s, licking the blood off his lips.

“You’re fucked,” Dylan says.

“You’re the one who just asked me to tie you up!” Eric retorts. He flops down on the bed, cutting off the attention he was giving Dylan. He ignores him, looking up at the ceiling instead.

“Eric,” Dylan tries. No response. “Reb!” He inches closer.

Eric makes a show of looking anywhere in the room but Dylan.

Frustrated, Dylan grabs his jaw and kisses him. Eric closes his eyes and kisses back, letting Dylan plunder his mouth with his tongue.

Eric peers at him out of one eye. “What kind of names?”

Dylan rolls over and hides his face.

*

They’re making out in Eric’s room after school and Eric is pinning Dylan down by his wrists when he remembers their conversation from the other day.

“Hey,” Eric says, kissing that spot below Dylan’s ear that drives him nuts. “Do you wanna -”

Dylan nods breathlessly. “Yeah. Yes,” he agrees eagerly.

Eric gets up and starts looking through his closet. When he turns back to Dylan, he has a length of paracord in his hands.

“How do you want -”

“However you want,” Dylan responds, like he said the first day. He really means it.

That’s when Eric knows he’s going to like this. He looks Dylan up and down, tries to figure out how he wants him. 

“Get on your knees, Vodka,” Eric tells him.

Dylan kneels in the center of the floor. 

“Shirt off,” Eric commands, standing in front of him. “And hands behind your back.”

Eric watches Dylan strip. After he pulls off his t-shirt, revealing pale, smooth skin, Dylan kneels there obediently with his arms behind his back, waiting for Eric.

Eric steps behind Dylan. He winds the paracord around Dylan’s wrists, binding them together. He loops the cord around again and again until he’s sure that Dylan’s not going anywhere. He tugs on the binding just to check it, satisfied when it doesn’t budge.

Eric presses a kiss to Dylan’s shoulderblade before standing up.

Eric doesn’t know where to start, so he looks at Dylan, takes in the sight of him. “This what you want?”

Dylan nods, eyes wide.

Eric leans down to kiss him. It’s sweet, at first, but then Eric bites Dylan’s lip hard enough to make him wince.

Eric’s erection is pressing painfully against his zipper; their make-out session had gotten him riled up but he hadn’t expected to be so turned on merely by tying rope around Dylan’s wrists. He nudges Dylan’s face into the crotch of his pants, rubbing his hard-on against Dylan’s cheek. Dylan nuzzles against him until he pushes his face away so Eric can unbuckle his belt and let his jeans drop to the floor.

Eric slides a hand through the dark hair at his groin and jerks his cock a few times. He smears precome across the tip before working his dick into Dylan’s mouth. Dylan opens his mouth willingly, closing his eyes when Eric’s dick slides across his tongue.

Eric watches Dylan lick at his cock and it’s the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen. Dylan is attentive and affectionate and he works at it like he really wants to make Eric happy. 

After letting Dylan control the pace, Eric starts to fuck his mouth, pushing in until Dylan is practically choking on his dick. Dylan takes him deep, humming around him, working earnestly despite his restraints.

Eric lets out a strangled moan when he comes inside Dylan’s mouth, watching come dribble out of the corner of his lips.

“Bed,” Eric commands. Dylan tries to stand, a little shaky, and Eric hoists him up from the floor with a hand on his elbow. Eric pushes him down onto the bed, unbuckling Dylan’s belt and unzipping his fly. He reaches a hand into Dylan’s pants to pull his dick free from his boxers and jerks Dylan off until he’s writhing under his hands, a buzzing heat building up within him. Dylan squirms against the sheets.

“Can I come?” Dylan asks.

“Yes, fuck, yes, sorry,” Eric lets loose. 

Just one more touch and Dylan is spilling over Eric’s hand. Dylan pants and tries to catch his breath.

Eric wipes the mess off of his fingers and leans against Dylan’s knees. “We are definitely doing that again.”

Dylan doesn’t even try to hide his satisfied smile.

*

Eric gets surprisingly into it; every other week he’s got something new to try on Dylan. Rope, nylon cord, duct tape, USB cables, whatever he can get his hands on. Sometimes it is just his hands.

The first time Eric accidentally hurts Dylan scares Eric more than it does Dylan. Heavy drinking turns into heavy petting, and they egg each other on. Eric winds up with his hands around Dylan’s neck without applying pressure, just touching.

Dylan nods.

Eric squeezes and starts to throttle him, cutting off his air supply. Dylan struggles for a minute before turning red, and before Eric knows what’s happening, Dylan is unconscious in his arms.

“Dylan?” He’s unresponsive. “Oh, shit, Dylan, wake up,” Eric begs him, shaking his shoulder.

Dylan comes to after a moment, blinking and gasping for air.

“Fuck,” Eric mutters, relieved to see Dylan’s body moving. He slumps beside his friend and wipes the sweat from his brow. “You okay?”

Dylan’s throat is hoarse, but he manages to answer affirmatively.

Eric commits to learning the right way to choke out Dylan after that. He feels like an asshole at first for Googling this, but there are apparently all sorts of proper techniques and procedures, to Eric’s surprise, so Eric starts reading whatever he can online. 

Dylan seems less fazed by the incident than Eric, and the next time Dylan blinks at him and bares his neck, Eric goes for his carotid artery, applying pressure close to Dylan’s jawline. 

This time, he doesn’t pass out. Dylan's lips part ever so slightly. His pupils dilate and his skin heats up and he starts to give way to the euphoria that passes through his body.

Eric starts to pull his hands back but Dylan covers them and keeps them pressed against the cool skin of his throat. 

“Was that —” Eric starts to ask him if it was okay, but Dylan’s rogue smile is the only answer he needs.

*

“Hey V, what’s this?” Eric asks, holding up a folded sheet of notebook paper from Dylan's desk.

“What have I told you about going through my shit?” Dylan freaks, jumping up to snatch the paper from his hand. Eric waves it out of his reach.

“It’s just a question. Plus, it’s got my name on it, anyway,” he defends himself.

Dylan turns pink. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck off, Eric!” Dylan tries to grab the paper again but Eric opens it up where he can’t get to it.

Eric shuts up for a minute while he reads the contents of the paper, and Dylan starts wishing he could disappear.

“You, um… this is shit you want?” Eric asks.

Dylan closes his eyes and nods.

“Fuck,” Eric breathes, reading over the list in Dylan’s messy handwriting.

_-tied up_  
_-gagged_  
_-choked_  
_-slapped_  
_-punished_  
_-degraded_  
_-used by Eric_  
_-leashed_  
_-namecalling_  
_-biting_  
_-knives_

“You’re really into this stuff, huh?” Eric asks, although he’d never give up that he had his own growing stash of BDSM porn on his hard drive.

Dylan nods shamefully. Dylan wants to belong to somebody; he wants to be possessed. It just so happens Eric likes the feeling of possessing him.

Eric frowns at the self-conscious look on Dylan’s face. “Hey. Stop it,” he tells him. He grabs Dylan’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and kisses him. “It’s hot.”

Dylan doesn’t seem to believe him. Eric kisses him again, deeper this time, working his tongue into Dylan’s mouth. Dylan opens up underneath his touch.

Eric reaches under Dylan’s shirt to scratch his nails across Dylan’s back. Dylan arches up into the sensation.

“Why do you like it, anyway?” Eric asks. He could feel flakes of Dylan’s skin under his fingernails.

Dylan shrugs. “Why do you like doing it to me?”

Eric starts to grin. There are a hundred reasons. He pulls Dylan’s shirt over his head and then his own before looking over the side of the bed for something to use. He comes back up with a roll of white nylon cord.

Eric places Dylan’s arms where he wants them and starts to loop the cord around Dylan’s bony wrists, tying it off with a square knot. Proud of his handiwork, Eric sits back on his haunches with a smirk. Dylan is trussed up shirtless on the bed, wrists bound above his head.

Eric runs a thumb across Dylan’s lower lip before dipping it between his lips.

Dylan sucks Eric’s finger into his mouth and Eric practically fucking whimpers.

“Look at you,” Eric mumbles. Fascinated, he watches his finger disappear into Dylan’s mouth up to the last knuckle.

“Hate me, hit me, whatever,” Dylan begs him. How can someone be tied up but at the same time feel so free?

It’s like music to Eric’s ears. He likes it almost as much as when Dylan whispers “fuck me up” with such conviction it could make Eric come right there on the spot.

They experiment with different names - Dylan calls Eric _Reb_ and _sir_ and _master_. Eric likes sir the best, likes the authoritative ring it has to it. Eric calls Dylan his slut or his little whore, and if sometimes Eric slips in the heat of the moment and calls him _baby_ or _schatz_ or _sweetheart_ when he’s on his knees, they don’t bring it up.

Eric Harris is the only boy Dylan knows who can make a death threat sound like a love poem. 

In addition to giving up total control to Eric - which does all kinds of things for both Eric and Dylan - Dylan gets off on the degrading shit. He’s always liked the punishment aspect of all of this, although Eric tries to tell him how good he is at being so debased when he remembers to.

In the middle of the handjob, Eric breaks the skin on Dylan’s neck and draws blood and feels like a fucking animal for doing it. Dylan starts at the pain, but bares his neck further and keeps thrusting into Eric’s hand. Eric’s palm is warm around Dylan’s cock. With a twist of his hand, Eric finishes him off and Dylan comes with a cry, spilling into Eric’s fist. 

Still turned on, Eric runs his tongue across the bitemark before untying his best friend. As he untangles the knots, Dylan pulls his hands free and reaches for Eric.

Eric snaps at him. “Hey! Did I give you permission?”

Dylan hesitates, pulling his hand back.

Eric dives forward and kisses the scared look off his face. “I’m kidding. If you don’t touch my dick right now I’ll kill you,” he says.

Dylan sits up and pushes Eric down on the bed. He works Eric’s pants off and pumps Eric’s cock in his left hand.

Hair falling into his eyes, Dylan wraps his mouth around Eric’s cock and starts to suck.

“The things I want to do to you,” Eric moans. Dylan’s mouth is soft and warm. Eric lets himself give in, winding a hand in Dylan’s blond curls. “Come on,” Eric grunts. _Goddamn, he was getting good at this_. 

Dylan opens his mouth wider, takes him further down his throat. Speeding up, he tries to give Eric what he asked for.

Eric grabs at Dylan’s sheets. 

Dylan licks at the tip and then Eric can’t control it, he’s coming into his best friend’s mouth. Dylan swallows everything.

Eric sprawls out on the bed after he comes, brainless, wasted. It takes him a moment to remember to untie Dylan, who curls up beside him but never reaches out.

“I want a cigarette,” Eric mumbles, covering his face with his hand. “Is that a fucking cliche or what?”

*

Eric spies the cardboard box sitting in front of his front door when he pulls into his usual parking spot on the right side of the driveway. Unless his parents have ordered something from a catalog, there’s only one thing it could be.

Sure enough, the box is labeled with his name and address. Eric sneaks it into the house and hides it under his bed, keeping the box packaged until Dylan sleeps over that weekend.

“I wanna show you something,” Eric says, and he tugs the package out, setting it in front of Dylan. “Go on,” he says, when Dylan doesn’t know what to do.

Dylan whips out a knife and cuts through the packing tape. He digs through the bubble wrap and receipts and pulls out a shiny pair of handcuffs.

“Shit,” Dylan says.

“Too much?”

“ _Never_ ,” Dylan breathes, and Eric thinks maybe he’d let him do anything he wanted.

“Nobody’s home,” Eric suggests, and Dylan knows what he’s implying. 

“Thank you,” Dylan tells him, and then Eric’s knocking the box onto the floor and pushing Dylan onto the bed.

One filthy kiss later, Eric’s hands are all over Dylan, pushing up his t-shirt and positioning his arms above his head.

Eric closes the handcuffs around Dylan’s thin wrists. 

“Is my little bitch ready for me?”

“Yes,” Dylan responds.

Eric slaps him hard across the cheek.

Dylan whimpers. “Yes, _sir_.”

“That’s more like it,” Eric tells him. “Greedy fucking cockslut.”

Eric yanks Dylan’s pants off and touches him sparingly, jerking him off until he’s hard and leaking in Eric’s fist and then backing off, leaving him wanting. He kisses him until his mouth is red, nipping at his lips until he’s chasing Eric’s mouth with his own desperately.

Dylan strains against the handcuffs. 

“More,” Dylan begs. “Please, I need more,” he pleads.

Eric slips two fingers between Dylan’s lips. Dylan runs his tongue across the pad of Eric’s fingertips before slicking them with his spit. He gets them nice and wet and then Eric nudges Dylan’s skinny knees further apart, pressing a finger against his hole. 

Dylan doesn’t resist so Eric slips his finger inside. He works a finger in and out until Dylan’s body starts to rise to meet his hand. He arches his back, a hushed groan escaping his lips.

Eric adds a second finger, stretching him wider. He pumps them in and out, fucking Dylan on his fingers.

Eric looks up with interest when Dylan lets out a wild moan. He crooks his fingers in just the same way, watching a desperate look flicker across Dylan’s features. Overwhelmed with pleasure, Dylan looks absolutely wrecked; he’s rutting against Eric’s fingers like the horny teenager he is.

Eric’s still trying to get past the dicks in asses thing, himself, so he files _this_ away for later. Fingering Dylan had never been that high up on his list, but damn - after seeing what it did to him, Eric was going to have to repeat this little experiment.

Eric pumps Dylan’s cock, jerks him off while he fingers him, twisting his fingers inside Dylan just so at the same time. Eric picks up his pace until Dylan is writhing under his hands. His hole is tight but Dylan is taking him so sweet, grinding against his fingers.

“Yeah, fuck, come on, V,” Eric encourages, squeezing the base of Dylan’s cock. He drives his fingers in deeper. 

Dylan’s hips twitch and he comes into Eric’s hand with a raspy moan.

Eric looks over Dylan, still cuffed but pink-cheeked and sweaty and spent, and decides his purchase was well worth the money.

“Fuck,” Dylan mutters.

“Yeah,” Eric agrees. His dick is still hard, but seeing Dylan like that was… fuck. 

Dylan flexes his wrists. “Are you gonna let me out of these things?”

“Oops,” Eric apologizes, looking for the key to the handcuffs. He takes one more glance at Dylan - used and dirty - and commits it to his memory before setting him free. 

Dylan’s wrists are red where he’s been straining against the metal. Eric traces the red marks with his finger before pulling Dylan’s hands down. 

“You should clean up. My parents will be home soon.”

*

Not everything is so easy.

Dylan likes the pain almost as much as Eric likes inflicting it. He means it when he says he wants to try everything with Eric, but sometimes it’s just… not right.

“You’re a worthless slut, aren’t you?” Eric grips his chin and forces Dylan’s head up. “Look at me, you filthy fucking whore. Say it.”

“I’m a worthless slut,” Dylan hisses.

Eric’s fingers grip his jaw hard enough to hurt, moving him wherever he wants him. “This is the only thing you’re good for, isn’t it? Pathetic. Who could ever love you?”

Dylan whimpers. Eric looks disgusted. It’s too much.

“Stop,” Dylan strains. “Stop it.” Unable to remember his safeword, he struggles against his bonds as Eric laughs. “ _Phobos_ ,” he cries at last.

It takes a second or two for everything to sink in, for Eric to loosen his grip. Eric backs off as soon as he realizes what word Dylan’s uttered, watching him carefully.

Dylan finally speaks up in a small voice. “Can you untie me?” He’s holding so, so still.

“Shit, sorry,” Eric apologizes, taking Dylan’s hands. He assumes he’s hurt him again and reaches delicately for the knots, although he doesn’t see any signs of damage on Dylan’s skin when he checks.

Dylan sits up carefully, reaching for a t-shirt, blanket, anything.

Eric watches him, trying unsuccessfully to figure out what he needs. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

Dylan doesn’t want to tell him. “Sorry,” he murmurs under his breath.

“Can I hug you at least?”

Dylan lets Eric put his arms around him and they lie down together in Eric’s bed. Dylan’s so much taller than Eric yet Eric curls up behind him regardless (Dylan’s always trying to make himself seem smaller, anyway). Eric presses his forehead against Dylan’s back, right between his shoulderblades. Tracing slow patterns on the inside of Dylan’s forearm with the tip of his finger, he shuts up and waits.

*

It turns out there’s a right way and a wrong way to beat up your boyfriend. Thank God for the Internet. With the assistance of Google and a handful of dirty websites, Eric starts trying to learn about BDSM and bondage.

One afternoon Dylan borrows Eric’s computer, as he so often does when they’re doing research. He’s typing in “how to build a safety fuse” and gets as far as “how to b” when Google autofill completes the rest of his search with Eric’s previous queries. At the top of the list is “how to be a good dom”.

Dylan’s cheeks turn pink and he quickly finishes typing. He ignores the thrill it shoots up his spine, like he did when he saw the new book on knots that suddenly showed up on Eric’s shelf.

Eric waits for Dylan to finish his homework patiently as he can, his eyes darting up excitedly when he finally sees Dylan log off the dial-up modem and stretch his lanky arms over his head. 

Eric gets up off the floor and inserts himself into Dylan’s line of sight.

Dylan watches Eric with an amused look. “Were you waiting for something?”

“Shut up,” Eric smirks. “Time to play?” he asks hopefully.

Dylan reaches for the Playstation controller. 

Eric puts a hand out to stop him. “Mmm, not what I meant.” Eric pushes closer to Dylan, reaching for his wrists and tugging them toward him. 

Dylan smiles shyly. “Okay,” he agrees. Eric grins and kisses Dylan, excited.

“What are you gonna let me do?” Eric asks. He touches the bones in Dylan’s wrist. “Gag you? Blindfold you?” Eric runs his thumb over Dylan’s lower lip. “Use you?” Eric seems to savor the last possibility. 

“Anything,” Dylan breathes softly. He trusts Eric - there’s no better person to do this with. Eric might like some fucked up stuff, but he understands the weird shit Dylan is into. It’s worth it. 

Eric smiles greedily and moves over to his toolbox. A shiver runs down Dylan’s spine as he waits, wondering what Eric could be selecting for him. When Eric turns around he has electrical tape in his hands.

Dylan swallows as Eric approaches him. Eric reaches for his hands. Dylan’s wrists are skinny, and there’s an X-shaped scab on the back of his hand. Eric starts wrapping the tape around Dylan’s wrists until he’s satisfied that Dylan’s restraints aren’t going to give way.

“Say anything and you’ll get what you deserve,” Eric threatens. “My parents are upstairs. You better be fucking quiet.”

Dylan’s hair is the perfect length for Eric to fist a hand in it and _tug_ , demanding that Dylan meet his eyes. Dylan loves it when Eric does that, winds the blond strands around his fingers and leads him where he wants him to go. He stifles a moan.

“What do you need?” Eric asks, teeth on his neck.

Dylan can’t answer, can’t form words, he can barely hold his head up. His eyes are glassy and half-lidded, and Eric can’t get over how defenseless he looks. He can be sensitive, and Eric’s loved learning how to coax out every moan and sigh and weak noise Dylan has in him. 

“You want me to teach you a lesson?” Eric tips Dylan’s chin up and kisses his mouth. 

It’s not long before he’s shirtless, wrists pinned to the bed by Eric’s hands.

Eric leaves Dylan bruises as if they were presents, sucking reddish-purple blotches on his hipbones, his neck, the inside of his arms. Dylan wears bruises from Eric’s fingertips on his wrists like jewelry. Sometimes Dylan gets so fucking hot for it he makes Eric bite him, really bite him, wounds that leave his skin red and ragged. 

After they fool around, Eric actually stays in bed with Dylan this time. 

Eric runs his thumb over the red marks on Dylan’s wrist from where he’d had begun to lose circulation. He massages the skin until the redness starts to fade.

Dylan’s got a happy, dreamy look on his face. He makes a quiet hum of approval at Eric’s touch and sneaks his head onto Eric’s shoulder when he’s certain the other boy won’t oppose. 

Eric drags his fingertips across Dylan’s skin, an aimless, wandering touch. “What are you thinking about?” Eric asks him.

“As wolves love lambs, so lovers love their loves,” Dylan murmurs under his breath.

Eric snaps his teeth together in a fake bite beneath Dylan’s ear. Laughing, he presses a kiss to the tender skin there and wraps an arm around Dylan’s shoulders.

*

Sometimes Dylan challenges Eric, just for the hell of it. It feels like playing with fire. All it takes is for Dylan to mouth off or make a snide remark and things escalate from zero to sixty in an instant.

“You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you? Leave it alone, Reb.”

Eric’s hands are on him in a second, forcing Dylan face-first against the wall and pinning him there. 

“Look at you, trying to give orders. Shut the fuck up, Vodka.” Once Eric has Dylan pressed against the wall, immobile, he starts to dig around in his bedside drawer behind Dylan’s back.

“On your knees.”

There’s a soft _click_ and Dylan feels the cool kiss of metal behind his ear.

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

Dylan turns around and sinks to his knees in front of Eric.

Eric puts his handgun to Dylan’s temple. He presses the muzzle against Dylan’s skin.

A look of something - fear, bewilderment - flashes in Dylan’s eyes, though he doesn’t move. Dylan has a safeword ( _Phobos_ ), though he was reluctant to choose it, and Eric thinks for a second he might use it now, might think this is too much. 

Eric brushes his free hand against Dylan’s cheek, so soft that it’s almost like it never happened at all, and the fear in Dylan’s eyes is replaced with a new resolve.

Eric caresses Dylan’s cheek with the pistol, slides it across Dylan’s lower lip and into his open mouth. Dylan’s pink lips close around the barrel of the gun.

Eric feels a quake run up his spine.

Dylan looks so fucking hot like this, on his knees, a gun in his mouth. He’s taking it between his lips like it’s Eric’s cock, mouth wrapped around the barrel.

Eric’s about to die; it doesn’t get hotter than what he's seeing in front of him. Then Dylan takes his tongue and licks the underside, and Eric thinks he might drop the gun. His dick gives an excited twitch.

“I’ve got something else for you,” Eric chokes. “Take off your shirt.”

Dylan doesn’t move. 

Eric presses the gun into his cheek. “ _I said_ , take off your fucking shirt.”

Dylan reaches for the bottom of his AOL shirt and starts to lift it up slowly. 

Eric pulls the gun back for a second so Dylan can strip. When he’s finished, Eric tilts Dylan’s chin up with the end of the gun. 

“Open your mouth,” Eric tells him, dragging the gun up his cheek and pressing it into the soft flesh under his cheekbones. 

Dylan obeys.

“Wider,” Eric murmurs. 

Dylan parts his lips further, and Eric slides the gun between them. Dylan takes the gun further down until the trigger guard brushes against his lower lip.

“Unzip my pants,” Eric commands.

Not breaking eye contact, Dylan reaches his unsteady hands for Eric’s fly. Dylan pulls the zipper down slowly, tucking his fingers into Eric’s belt loops and sliding his pants down over his hips. 

Dylan licks his lips hungrily; Eric works the gun into his mouth one more time with impeccable trigger discipline before letting him taste his cock.

Dylan mouths at the head of his cock until Eric places the gun to his temple. At that, he works his mouth over the rest of him, taking Eric down completely.

Eric holds the gun to his head as Dylan gives Eric an intense blowjob. Dylan does some magical thing with his tongue, and Eric loses it. He’s not sure what’s better, Dylan’s mouth on his dick or on the gun pressed to Dylan’s temple.

“Gonna come,” Eric grunts, yanking on Dylan’s hair. Eric sets the gun down so he can grip Dylan’s hair and push his head down further on his dick. His eyes flutter shut. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, hips jerking as he spills into Dylan’s mouth. 

“Get up here,” Eric says numbly, tugging Dylan onto the bed with him where he passes out flat on his back, limbs akimbo. He’s never come that hard in his life.

Dylan nestles himself against Eric’s side, lifting up Eric’s arm to make room for his lanky body.

Unable to move very far, Eric scratches his nails gently against Dylan’s skin. “Goddamn. That was fuckin’…. _fuck_ , Dylan.”

Dylan presses his face into Eric’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

Eric makes him show his face, tugs him into a heated kiss. “You’re so good,” he murmurs against Dylan’s mouth, drunk off lust.

“I’m not,” Dylan responds negatively, eyes downcast.

Eric pinches the soft skin at the inside of his elbow until Dylan hisses. Eric tries to kiss the dissatisfied look off of Dylan’s face, and he reluctantly accepts, letting Eric press kisses to his mouth until the discouraged look disappears. 

_How can so much darkness and lightness exist within one person_ , Dylan wonders, marveling at how well the other boy complements his own mix of shadow. Eric Harris gets to him like an infection.

“You’re mine,” Eric promises defiantly, kissing the corner of his mouth. “And I think you’re fuckin’ awesome.”


End file.
